


Tonight You Belong to Me

by Mistybubbles



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Arcade in a bomb collar at the Sierra Madre, Child!Courier, Dead Money DLC, Gen, Gore, Vomiting, tags will update, what will he do?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistybubbles/pseuds/Mistybubbles
Summary: A rather stupid decision and sheer dumb luck land Arcade and Miranda in the middle of nowhere while a mad man raves about supposed hidden treasures. With Miranda missing from the moment he wakes up; Arcade has no choice but to navigate the Sierra Madre by himself...
Relationships: Female Courier & Arcade Gannon
Comments: 16
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Arcade stirred on the ground, groaning softly. His eyelids felt like they were made out of lead...far heavier than they had any right to be and whatever he had eaten last night was not sitting well with his stomach. Fuck...his head was pounding. After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to force his eyes open and sit up, sending an ache through his body. His vision spun, the sensation sending another wave of nausea through him. It was dark as hell, what time was it? He reached to rub his eyes when he felt his glasses on his face. Weird... He was sure he had broken that habit. As he tried to regain his bearings he heard a soft song playing next to him. Where on earth was that coming from? Arcade blinked slowly before looking down. Miranda’s pipboy was on his arm, playing a music album. Nancy Sinatra. Go figure. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Miranda, can you please turn that down? My head’s _killing_ me.” he grumbled, rubbing his temples. There was no response. 

Wait a second. He was wearing the pipboy. Arcade scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. Why _was_ he wearing the pipboy? ...it’s Miranda’s. It’s usually in her bag...oh. _Oh no._ Everything came crashing back to him. Getting trapped in that sandstorm. Finding the bunker. Walking into that room- that was obviously a trap. Of course an empty room with a radio in the middle of it was a trap! He was an _idiot_. He was an idiot who strolled into a Brotherhood of Steel bunker, poked around in it and then walked into a trap so obvious a twelve-year-old voiced concern about it and did he listen to her? No...wait-

Miranda.

_Where the hell was she?_

“Miranda? MIRANDA!” He yelled. Again, no response.

Arcade looked around frantically, trying to suppress his panic. He was alone in what seemed to be...a plaza? It was too dark to tell. The only source of light was a translucent blue hologram of a woman staring blankly at him from a dilapidated fountain. He felt the hairs on his arms and back rise, sending a shudder down his spine. What he found more unnerving than the uncanny hologram was the strikingly red sky...it felt...unnatural. From the distance he could barely make a tower rising into the red clouds. The shadowed buildings towering around him echoed a distorted groaning sound which cut through the piercing silence, save for the pipboy music. There was nothing but darkness around him. There was nothing to focus on except the fact that he’s utterly alone. He was utterly alone and Miranda’s probably hurt or worse and he doesn’t know what the mysterious noise is or where’s it’s coming from and FUCKING NANCY SINATRA WONT STOP SINGING ABOUT SUGAR TOWN. Arcade snapped off the music in a fit of frustration. 

Well, _now_ he really had nothing else to focus on.

Another pang of nausea hit him and he started to feel numb. His breathing picked up- he couldn’t hyperventilate _now_ for god's sake. His neck felt constricted, making it harder than it already was to breath. Arcade reached to unbutton his collar when he felt...metal? Wait. He grabbed the metal object on his neck and started feeling at it. No. No no no no. Was he collared? He felt a box-like object and quickly recoiled his hand. A _bomb_ collar. His stomach twisted into a knot. Arcade quickly assessed what he was wearing and felt a sliver of relief when he saw that he wasn’t in legion slave rags. He seemed to be in a light, dirty jumpsuit. His plasma defender wasn’t on him. Neither was his bag or any of his medical supplies. He took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

Wonderful. Just...absolutely wonderful. He was god knows where, with nothing but a bomb collar on his neck and a pip boy on his arm. The hologram woman continued to stare at him. He felt mocked. A whirring noise emitted from the fountain and a blinding blue light flashed, causing Arcade to flinch back. It created a second hologram, which projected the face of an old, bearded man. It vaguely reminded him of that holotape Veronica seemed to like so much... _The Wizard of Oz_ , wasn’t it? The man began to speak in a slow, brutal voice.

“Are you listening? Good. From now on, when I talk, listen - and follow my instructions.” he commanded. Arcade crossed his arms and stepped towards the fountain tentatively. He opened his mouth to respond but found that it was too dry for him to speak. He closed it shut. 

The man continued to talk. “Play stupid, play clever, make the mistake of saying "no?" That collar on your neck'll go off and take your head....” He looked down contemptuously on Arcade, smirking eerily. One hand raised into view, brandishing a worn red scarf twisted around his fist. _Miranda!_ “...and her’s too.” His blood began to boil. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> Welps, it's finally come to this hm? This has been a story that's been sitting around in my head for months lmao I can't believe I'm writing it down. This was originally supposed to be a one shot for Whumptober but I'm expanding it lol.  
> Hope you enjoy it! ^^


	2. Chapter 2

Arcade leaned towards the projection and gritted his teeth. “What. Did. You. Do. With. Her?” he growled. His body trembled, though he wasn’t sure if it was shaking from anger or fear. Maybe both. His heart was beating so hard, it felt like it would burst out of his chest.

The man chuckled darkly and put the scarf away. “I haven't hurt her yet, and assuming you do what I ask you to, there won't be a need for anyone to get hurt. The Sierra Madre is a complicated lock...Cracking it open requires human hands. If I could use robots I would have sent them.” He broke out into a hacking cough for a moment before clearing his throat. Arcade glanced towards the tower, shrouded in red clouds in the distance, and pursed his lips.

“Pardon me if I don’t thank you for your intentions.” he sniped, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. The man simply continued to speak, as if Arcade hadn’t said anything.    


“As I've found, one cannot do it alone,” he mused, frustrated, “I’ve... _ gathered _ 3 others to aid you in entering the casino.” Arcade narrowed his eyes at the man. Of course this asshole kidnapped other people, why should he be surprised? He already has Miranda. In fact, he should be wondering how many _ other  _ people he kidnapped in the past. It didn’t seem like he was the first to be dragged to this place... He blinked back from his thoughts to see that the old man was still talking to him.  _ Great. _ “-...all of your collars are linked, so if one of you dies...I assume you get the picture. I left some supplies to aid you while you navigate the Villa. Meet me back here at the fountain for more instructions when you’re done.” 

And with that the projection dissipated, leaving behind the hologram of the woman and Arcade alone in the plaza once more. He glanced around the darkness and shivered. So he had some supplies, huh? Arcade walked over to the fountain, looked down and squinted in the dim blue light the hologram provided. A battered holorifle, a flashlight and a couple of strangely shaped caps were placed on the fountain walls. ...He honestly wasn’t sure what he expected to get.

Arcade took a deep breath and rubbed his hands through his hair before he picked up the holorifle and slung it across his back. He picked up the caps and shone the flashlight on them. Upon closer inspection they weren’t caps at all. They seemed to be some sort of metallic poker chip with a woman and the letters ‘SM’ engraved on it. He jingled them in his trembling hand before stashing them in one of his jumpsuit pockets. Arcade shone the flashlight towards the dark expanse around him, revealing a winding road of ruins shrouded in darkness. The grinding wail echoed from inside the maze of buildings. He tried to steady his breathing and swallowed another pang of nausea. He had no choice but to do this, did he? He didn’t know what he’d do if anything happened to Miranda. He took a step, then another towards the looming path ahead of him. Arcade tightened his grasp on the flashlight and took a deep breath before disappearing into the darkness, leaving the hologram alone in the plaza.


	3. Chapter 3

Arcade rubbed his temples and grimaced. His ears were ringing and his head was pounding much harder than when he woke up because of that damned wailing noise. It was gratingly louder now that he was wandering through the town. What on earth  _ was _ it? It seemed to be some sort of...broken machinery? It echoed eerily through the narrow passageways- there was no way of knowing where it was coming from.  The darkness was overwhelming, swallowing up everything that the beam from his flashlight or the soft light the pipboy emitted didn’t touch. The only other light in sight was the  _ oh -so- comforting _ dim red light of his bomb collar just out of the corner of his eye. 

He flashed his light on a wall ahead of him as he walked. Its stucco paint was faded and peeling, revealing old brick. Red, sulfurous smelling stains dripped down it and collected on the tiles below it. The stale, desert air stunk of sulfur or some other chemical he couldn’t put his finger on. He looked up at the blood-red clouds above him. They showed no sign of parting anytime soon. Somehow, despite it being overcast and dark, it was frustratingly hot. Arcade’s foot caught onto a hole and he yelped before falling over onto the hard pavement. He grumbled and rubbed his bruised arm, glaring pointedly at a pothole. The buildings felt like they were gazing at him through their cracked and boarded up windows. 

Arcade slowly picked himself up and continued walking, albeit more cautiously, hearing the sound of his feet against the cracked pavement echo around him. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. How long has he been walking like this? It felt like it had been ages. He stopped in his tracks to gauge his surroundings. His instincts screamed that he was being followed but no matter where he shone the light, there was nothing that he could see. For a moment he could swear he saw something move just out of the corner of his eye. Arcade bit his lip and swallowed. Well, that’s just great. Aside from being an absentminded klutz, he also might just be going absolutely insane.

That awful grinding noise made it nearly impossible for him to focus on his thoughts. He covered his ears with his free hand and shoulder in a vain attempt to block out the sounds and awkwardly shone his flashlight around until he saw a dead tree. A small breeze blew through its branches, making them rattle. That...wasn’t right. He swore he just passed by it a little while ago. He walked around for about 10 minutes trying to make out any familiar landmarks without much success. The buildings all had the same stucco and tile appearance, whenever he walked through a passageway he ended up in another plaza that looked like the last.

...He was lost, wasn’t he? Arcade swore under his breath and opened the pipboy map. The device felt worryingly hot. It took a couple of minutes for the screen to load...only for it to unhelpfully show him an unmarked, confusing yellow grid. The  _ wonders _ of technology never cease to amaze. He had no clue where he was at this point or how to get back to the fountain, much less how to find whatever other people that man wanted him to find. He supposed that served him right for tuning out his  _ kidnapper _ in a fit of righteous anger during his little speech. 

Arcade turned off the device and wiped his brow. It was  _ way _ too hot right now, his clothes were uncomfortably damp with sweat.  He carefully took off his holorifle and pipboy before unzipping his jumpsuit and tying it around his waist, revealing his tank top underneath. As he put his stuff back on, Arcade frowned at how exposed his arms felt. He missed his lab coat. Still, his undershirt was much more practical for bearing the stifling heat. At least it was improbable that he’d get sunburnt under a sea of blood-red clouds. As he adjusted the tied up sleeves around his waist, he heard a soft pattering noise echo ahead of him, almost too soft against the blaring wail. Arcade blinked. He was  _ sure _ he wasn’t hallucinating this. It was light and rhythmic...almost like... Arcade looked up and tried to quiet his breathing. Almost like footsteps... the resounding beat sped up, growing louder. Whatever it was. It was running... coming closer with each hit to the ground.

His heart skipped a beat.

Arcade started to reach for his holorifle but paused when he noticed a figure start to approach the passageway he was in. ...From what he could discern in the darkness, it looked like an unarmed person. He opted to reach for his flashlight instead, making the figure dart into the shadows of the buildings around them when he directed his light at it. They seemed to be rather small, almost the size of a young child...or a rather short person he supposed. Their face was covered, but from what he could make out from the meager light, they were clad in brown rags and had brown...hair? Hold on, was that-

“Miranda?” Arcade breathed. He started to walk towards the figure, trying to hold back his utter relief. The person shrunk back as he approached, as if they were spooked, and then bolted into the darkness. He broke out into a sprint, chasing after them. “Miranda! It’s me!”, he cried, trying to keep up with the shadowy figure, in spite of his exhaustion. He couldn’t lose her now, he had to catch up to her and make sure she was alright.

He had to apologize for getting them into this situation.

The person darted into a corner. Arcade peeked around it- they were nowhere to be found. He stopped running to catch his breath and shone a light in the direction that they ran. The path ahead of him was completely obscured by some sort of thick red mist. Arcade furrowed his brows and glanced at the sky. Was this some sort of fog? He looked around to see if there was any way to go around it with no luck. It seemed to cover the entire stretch of road, with no indication of where it would end. Still, the person managed to run through it just fine and he had his light to guide him. 

He walked tentatively into the mist. Immediately, the world around him became bathed in red and his eyes started to water. Arcade rubbed his eyes, which only made it worse, they now stung horribly. It was impossible to see anything ahead of him. His surroundings started to swim and his lungs felt like they were burning as he struggled to make his way through the smoke. He doubled over in a hacking cough and started to stumble... shit, he felt so lightheaded. This was a mistake. He had to get out of here. 

Arcade tried to step forward and fell over onto his knees. Everything was spinning, he was going to vomit. No, he couldn’t do that now. He struggled to keep himself from collapsing as he choked on the gas. His throat itched, making him cough uncontrollably. Arcade tried to hold his breath -it was the gas- he couldn’t keep breathing this. He started to crawl towards what he hoped was the end of the smoke, there was no way to tell, the stuff was everywhere. His vision was beginning to black out, his knees and arms were trembling, his stomach was convulsing. His hand tightened around the flashlight as if it was his lifeline. He finally collapsed in a heap, trembling uncontrollably. 

Arcade’s vision faded in and out as he struggled to maintain consciousness. He couldn’t move his body. He gasped for air like a fish out of water. He heard a small footstep against the pavement. And then another one. He tried to speak but the only sound he could make was a small groan. The last thing Arcade saw before the world fell into darkness was someone looking at him with a pair of soulless, glowing green eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_Another day came to pass in the Sierra Madre. The cloud remained as thick as ever in the sky, casting the city in a perpetual red haze, dense and humid as the sun struggled to force a meager amount of light through the weather. The bodies of its unfortunate visitors lay scattered around the ruins of the former resort town. Among the stench of corpses was the ever-looming threat of joining them..._

Arcade wrinkled his nose. What on _earth_ was that smell? He slowly turned his head, making eye contact with two shriveled up sockets with an absolutely _putrid_ translucent liquid leading out of them. He flinched back, groaning as his body refused to move as he wished. He was lying down next to a corpse. Its skin was shriveled up and falling out, revealing rotting flesh, and its mouth was permanently fixed in a shriveled up grimace. Arcade tried to scream, but his attempts came out as loud wheezing. His burning lungs made it feel like he had a weight on his chest and, oh god he couldn’t breath and, it was looking at him and, he was going to end up just like that thing and, it smelt so horrid, he felt like he was gonna-

Arcade’s stomach started to convulse and he quickly sat up, feeling a jolt of dizziness from the sudden motion. He turned over to empty the contents of his stomach onto the ground, next to the corpse. His eyes watered as he held his nose and took deep breaths to calm his nausea. He was ok -no he wasn’t- he was _fine_. He wasn’t dead! Yet. At least there was no trace of that green eyed...thing. And he had _great_ company while he was unconscious in whatever circle of hell this was. Arcade broke out into a wheezing fit, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He felt something wet roll down his face. This was it. He finally lost it. He broke out into another hacking fit and slowly rested his head back onto the ground. He curled in on himself, silently sobbing. Everything hurt.  
  
"Good thing you didn't die or we'd both end up like that guy next to ya." Arcade snapped out of his fit of abject despondency and furrowed his brows. Where on earth did that come from?

He tried to pull himself up but ended up collapsing on the ground. His arms and legs trembled. Arcade swore under his breath. Yup. He was just probably poisoned. That’s what he got for walking through random weather patterns he didn’t know about. Arcade craned his head and looked above. From what he could make out, a person was peering down at him from a broken window. His vision was too blurry to tell who was looking at him. He blinked. _Shit._ He slowly lifted his shaking arm only to find that his face was bare. Where the hell were his- did that green-eyed thing take them?

Arcade groaned, doing his best to roll away from the corpse so he could at least face the newcomer without his eyes watering. “And you are?” he choked out. The person simply chuckled before disappearing from the window. He awkwardly laid on his back, feeling too drained to turn back over and try to see where they went. After a few moments, he heard the crunching of shoes on the ground. A gnarled hand reached in front of his face, extended in a silent greeting. He looked up, eyes falling on a pair of sunglasses that were precariously balancing on a noseless face. A _blurry_ noseless face. Arcade blinked dully at the ghoul standing over him, trying to adjust his eyesight without much success.

The ghoul waited for Arcade to reciprocate his handshake expectantly before muttering "What, you can't get enough of my _rugged good_ \- ah." He drew a deep breath, let it out in a long slow sigh, and clucked his tongue. "Alrighty, wait for just a moment, pal." He stepped away and bent over near the corpse, making a small sound of disgust at the pool of vomit. He dug around for a few seconds before his blurry image straightened back up. His face looked...rather triumphant by the time it came back into full view, the fuzzy smile present only for a second before he unceremoniously plopped something down on Arcade’s face. “Here. I _assume_ these belong to you.” Arcade stumbled back, blinking rapidly as the world once again became clear. He grasped his glasses and slowly straightened them. 

The ghoul grinned at him like a lion leering at his prey. Arcade felt a pang of dread go down his spine but his brain felt too dazed and his body ached too much for him to focus on his intuition. He noticed the bomb collar on the ghoul’s neck and absentmindedly touched his own collar. “...I hate repeating myself”, he rasped, “but can I _please_ have your name?”

He simply slipped his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, shrugging. “You can call me,” he paused and crossed his arms, thinking for a moment, “You can call me a friend.”  
  
Arcade scoffed, before breaking out into a wheezing cough. “And I suppose you can call me _Nobody_.” 

The ghoul’s eye twitched, his smile faltering slightly before he regained his composure and started to laugh. “Haven't seen my name in the lights?” he said, adjusting his tuxedo. He looked at Arcade’s blank stare and let out a frustrated sigh. “Name’s Dean Domino,” he sneered, “Now, mind telling me _your_ name, _Nobody_?”

“Nice to meet you Dean,” Arcade shrugged weakly, raising an eyebrow at the ghoul. “You can call me, well, Nobody” he stated, lips curling up into what could almost be a smile. He broke out into another coughing fit, before taking slow, wheezing breaths to quell his coughing. Even the deep breaths couldn’t ease his constricted chest. He flopped over onto his side, facing away from the corpse and his own vomit. He curled into himself in a futile attempt to ease the pain.

Dean’s face fell into an annoyed scowl as he watched what was _surely_ one of the most pitiable sights he’s seen. Arcade didn’t blame him- if he was in his shoes he'd certainly think so. The ghoul rubbed his hand over his face before he reached in his pocket for a lighter and cigarette. He lit the cigarette, balancing it between his teeth, before taking a long drag on it. Arcade winced at the scent of the smoke as Dean exhaled. 

The ghoul twiddled the cigarette in his fingers, seemingly paying no mind to Arcade’s discomfort. "I admit it would have been pretty funny to watch you waltz into the cloud, totally unaware you'd choke to death in seconds,” He snorted at the idea of it before continuing, “Fortunately for you I saw the necktie around your throat before you did." Arcade blinked dully as Dean took another drag on his cigarette. “Well, you’re still going to die a slow painful death unless you get rid of all that poison you inhaled.” He blew a puff of smoke over Arcade’s face, sending him into a hacking fit. 

A clattering noise ran out from the distance, causing Dean to look in that direction cautiously. He dropped the cigarette and squashed it under his leather shoe before turning back to Arcade, slipping a hand into his pocket. “Well, our little chat’s been nice and all but we got to go before the -ahem- _locals_ arrive.” He raised an eyebrow at Arcade, who was still awkwardly lying on the ground. “Are you just gonna stay there or what?” He slowly sat up, feeling the world nauseatingly spin around him. Arcade tried to push his body up with his quivering arms and legs, but slumped back onto the ground, feeling his holorifle painfully jab into his back. Dean rolled his eyes and roughly grabbed Arcade by his arms, pulling him up to stand while muttering “Fucking tourists...” under his breath. 

Arcade’s legs felt like they were made out of jelly. He slumped against Dean for support, trying to keep his body from shaking. Dean tossed an arm around Arcade’s back, keeping him from falling over and hissed “You better be able to walk pal, I’m not gonna carry you across town.” Arcade bit back a retort and slowly moved a foot forward. His body lurched forward, and he scrambled to grab onto Dean’s arms before he fell flat onto the ground. He took a moment to catch his breath before he took another step. Dean sighed and started to walk deeper into the town, half dragging Arcade behind him.

\----

A small figure slunk through the passageway. It nodded in the direction it came and moved forward, followed by two larger figures, both equipped with makeshift spears. They readied their weapons, prepared to incapacitate their prey. The scout in their pack had managed to capture another person, but they were aware that oftentimes their prey fought back before they could subdue them. It wouldn’t do to lose another harvester to a lost limb or two. 

The scout gazed over the passageway with its unblinking green eyes looking for the person it trapped. It was easier than normal to lead this one astray- it seemed to be rather desperate. So desperate that it ran into the red cloud. Oh well. As long as the prey was still alive, then they could proceed with processing it. It was quite necessary; they needed a new person in their pack.

It stood over the mummified body lying in the passageway and looked around. There was nobody else there. It stepped onto the body, causing one of its ribs to break with a sickening snap. How strange. It seems that the person managed to slip away. The ghost person’s companions joined it and shared a silent agreement. Their target couldn’t have gone far. 

And when it came back, they would be waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Kudos are appreciated! <3


End file.
